The Terrible Game
by xGhostxStealth
Summary: An Alternate Ending to A Farewell to Arms. Catherine is alive, and so is her newborn child. But what causes Henry to leave Catherine and find someone he thought he lost? Warning Slash in the future! CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME! THEY BELONG TO HEMINGWAY
1. Chapter 1

I awoke, sitting upright in an unfamiliar setting. The fluorescent white lights and the sterile scent that only hospitals could acquire, however, brought me back into reality. Catherine had been brought to the hospital, in order to give birth to her child… our child. The thought didn't warm me like it should have. I didn't harbor any feelings for the child, only for Catherine. Thinking about her long blonde hair and delicate face only made me want to see her immediately.

I walked down the empty hallway, glancing at a clock mounted on the wall as I passed: 2:04 am. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes before opening the door to Catherine's room.

A nurse was standing beside her bed, dressed in plain light blue scrubs, checking her vitals. As I entered she finished what she was doing she walked out of the room, nodding politely to me as she passed. Catherine stared at me, I was the first to break the silence, and coming closer to the bed I noticed a small bundle in her arms, our child.

"Why wasn't I woken?" I was the father after all, someone should have informed me that the baby was born and Catherine was healthy?

"I haven't a clue" she responded with shifty eyes. "It's a boy" she continued, smiling lovingly at the bundle in her arms before pushing the blanket away from its face.

He was asleep, curled against his mother chest and I couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight.

"Don't you wish to go back to sleep?" She asked. Glancing, back toward the door, then to my face.

"I have gotten enough sleep, I'd rather see you"

"But don't you-" she was cut off by the sound of a door opening, accompanied by footsteps. A man entered the room. He was dressed in a military uniform, British. I recognized his rank by the patches on his arm: Sergeant. "Who are you?" He asked, genuinely confused as I was. His voice was heavily accented.

"Are you Catherine's brother?" I questioned, though they looked nothing alike. His hair was a deep auburn and his eyes were an icy blue that were, at the moment, narrowed in suspicion. I could feel that my expression mirrored his. I tried to deny the thoughts that were trying to make their way into my head; he must be her cousin, some distant relative. But the words that came from his mouth only solidified my fears, leaving me stunned.

"I am her fiancée". Those words seemed to tear at my chest. I hated the emotion that welled up inside me, and I hated him. And I spun to face Catherine, knowing that the hatred was shining in my eyes.

"You said he had been killed" I said though clenched teeth.

"It was all part of that terrible game Henry, I never would have continued if I had known this would happen."

I couldn't speak. I hadn't planned on loving her; I hadn't planned any of this. But somehow Catherine had become what I lived for. Thinking of her, of coming home to her was what had kept me alive in battle and now it was all shattered.

She tried to reason with me. "When you were gone, he came back and… I wasn't sure if you were ever going to return. I-I heard about the retreat, how officers were being executed and I thought…" her voice faded. Her eyes pleading for understanding, for forgiveness… I had none to offer.

"And you hoped that I was dead" I continued for her. "So you wouldn't need to lie and pretend that thing in your arms was mine so that you could live a happy life with your true husband, hoping he'd never find out about me." My voice grew louder with each word and I grew angrier. I stormed out of the room. I was angry, I knew I would feel sad later but right now all I felt was blinding rage. I heard arguing coming from Catherine's room, I heard the door slam as her fiancée stormed out like I had, and I heard Catherine's sobs. I went through the lobby and out into the cool dark night, and walked, to no where in particular because… I had no where left to go.


	2. Chapter 2

A tiny bell above the door chimed softly as I entered. The pungent scent of various weapon lubricating oils filled my nose, chasing away any second thoughts that had crept into my mind on the way here, I had made my decision and I had no intention of deciding against it.

The man behind the counter seemed surprised to be seeing a customer at this time of night. He cleared his throat as I approached. "Is there anything specific your looking for sir?"

"A pistol" I replied, keeping my answers short. I did not want to waste time. Time, I worried would cause hesitation in my decision. Though as I felt my heart beat I knew this wasn't true. Every pump of blood through my veins reminded me of Catherine, every beat reminding me of all the ways she had made my heart race, made me feel so alive. I hadn't realized the shopkeeper had been speaking.

"…and our finest-"I cut him off.

"I don't need your finest, sir that will do" I said, pointing to the least expensive pistol in the case. He brought it out and placed it in my open palm. The cool metal comforted me; I knew that it would bring me the escape I was so desperately searching for.

"And ammunition?"

"One Bullet" I responded.

"They are sold by the box, sir." His tone, while polite sounded genuinely confused. At least until he looked up into my eyes. I could only imagine what he saw. An empty shell of a man who had for a short time in his life felt whole, felt like he belonged. But now was forgotten, with dull lifeless eyes that had lost their luster and purple bruises beneath them; evidence of my nights stay in the sterile hospital waiting room. Perhaps, he even saw that I had been a lieutenant, now a deserter of the Italian army. Maybe, just maybe he even saw in my eyes the woman who had caused me all this pain, the woman who loved a different man, who loved a sergeant; A fucking sergeant.

He took out a small box of ammo placing it on the counter and stared me steadily in the eyes. I almost laughed at his futile attempt to sway my decision. I put the money on the table, grabbed the box, and took out one small copper bullet before placing the nearly full box of ammo into the man's outstretched hand.

"Thank you, sir" I nodded politely before walking out, the tiny bell chiming overhead.

The air outside was slightly cooler now than it had been before I entered the small shop. The humidity had decreased and I walked down the street with the pistol in one had and the bullet in the other. I chose a dark alley, one that was more hidden in the shadows than most. I pressed my back against the rough surface of the brick wall and sunk to the ground. I put the bullet in the clip and cocked it with a push of my thumb.

All my memories rushed back to me as I heard the bullet move into the chamber. I thought about Catherine, about my family in America who didn't care about me, and about all my friends who had died and even about the one I believed to be dead. Even with all that pain and sadness I felt in my heart and chest, I couldn't do it. I felt the cool smooth metal press firmly against my temple, my fingers wouldn't move. I tried to pull the trigger but my index finger only twitched in response.

I was a coward, a damn coward. I couldn't even end my own pathetic excuse of a life. I let the gun slide out of my frozen fingers and fall to the ground with a metallic clatter. I took deep shaking breaths and held my head in my hands, trying to prevent myself from letting the tears spill over and to calm my breathing.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there in the dark alley, but I knew it must have been quite a while judging on the way my knee ached as I stood. The word coward repeated itself over and over in my head, becoming a maddening drone. I had fought so hard for survival that was why I couldn't just end my life now. I thought about my time in the hospital after being hit by a mortar shell and my near execution during the retreat. I couldn't just end my life over some loose whore.

The though didn't lessen the sadness as much as I had hoped it would. I looked up at the stars, knowing I needed someplace to go. I picked up the gun from the ground and put it in my belt before starting a mental checklist in my head:

_Sweden?_ No.

_Scotland? _No.

_Greece? _How the hell would I manage that?

I clenched my jaw in anger to the point where I was sure my teeth would shatter under the pressure. Was this all I had without Catherine? Just a dwindling list of places I had no way to get to, and a cheap pistol with only a single round.

Now I was angry. I could feel it bubbling up inside me. I had hoped my life would work its way into something normal, less painful. But as I looked ahead into the future all I saw was uncertainty. I would wander, lost my whole life. That was what I feared; I realized then, a future of nothing but pain. I feared a future that my only happiness would be looking back on past memories or dreaming. I didn't want to have to rely on dreams and memories, only to wake up in a dull and lonely reality. I felt sick at the thought.

Drowning was the only thing I could think of to compare it with. That initial wave that drags you under, yes it's painful and frightening. Worse however, is when your beneath the surface, suspended in that dark abyss looking up at the glimmering surface that you were once apart of. Having that happiness and vital air so close to your outstretched fingertips, but yet so far away, and as you take that final breath that sends water rushing into your lungs, your vision goes black. Though, you can always see that surface, shimmering and shining in the light.

Fear sent an icy shock down my spine. I needed to get my mind off such a topic. I added more places to the list:

_France? _I couldn't speak French.

_England? _To surround myself with people who shared Catherine's accent would be torturous. I wasn't that masochistic.

_America?_

There was no reason that I could think of as to why this thought crossed my mind. My family hadn't cared about me. Hell they hadn't even blinked in my direction as I left for Italy, as I fought in a war I didn't believe in. I briefly wondered what they knew about me now. Did they receive word of my desertion? Perhaps I had just been declared KIA. Was I just a number in the death toll of this never ending war? It was possible that I thought of America because it was where I was born. It was my home as a child, and I had at one time felt safe there-

_-Safety._

I paused where I stood. It felt like a past life now, but the memory came back to me. It was after the retreat, I had stumbled off a train in Milan, a soaking wet uniform clinging to my skin and a stomach that was groaning for food. The bar that I came across was owned by a bartender that had offered me dry civilian clothes. He had also told me, over a glass of Grappa that I could go there if I was ever in trouble. At the time when he had said this, I thanked him and memorized its location, but had no real intent on ever needing it.

I went to the train station and bought a one way ticket to Milan. I didn't worry about the fact I was now headed for Italy, where I was wanted for desertion. Instead, I took my seat and rested my head back against the cool glass, allowing my eyes to drift close. I didn't sleep. I committed to memory every touch, every kiss, every expression, every word that had fell from Catherine's lips, every sparkle that had glinted in her bright blue eyes, and every golden strand of hair on her beautiful head. All the things that I had once cherished, all the things about he that had made my heart skip and made me think of her more and more everyday as an angel, I remembered in perfect detail. I then used those thoughts and memories as the mortar for the walls I began to build, higher and stronger than before, brick by brick.

A single slipped from my dark lashes and made a wet streak down my face. ..

I would never love again.


	3. Chapter 3

_*****WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of Slash, Yaoi, BL etc. Dont like, dont understand, dont read.*** **_

_**AN:**_ This is my first time even ATTEMPTING to write something smutty so **CONSTRUCTIVE CRISTISISM IS ENCOURAGE**! *nudge nudge* However trolling is not. So enjoy ;) Also before I go I would love to thank the lovely **Duvalia **for pursuading me to finish this ;)

* * *

The night air felt cool and crisp, but I didn't shiver. The cobblestone pathway that led to the tavern was uneven, though my step never faltered. My body was in the present, but my mind was in the past. I was thinking about memories, ones I had dredged up from my time in the war before meeting Catherine. Some memories that I cherished and some that made realization crawl down my spine as a cool chill.

In the moments on that path I thought about my enlistment. My hand signed the papers that declared me property of the Italian Army and did not hesitate as I scrawled my name hastily and permanently on the bold line. I had felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation and excitement. At the time I had thought they arose from the unknown that faced me, the excitement of a completely new experience that I would soon be thrown into. I now knew that it wasn't the unknown that excited me so, but rather hope. Hope, that I would finally feel like I belonged.

The simplistic uniformity of the barracks had delighted me. All the men sat at uniform tables, eating with uniform utensils and haircuts that made my hope of acceptance solidify. The uniforms, all the same, were clean and pressed and the buttons that shone gold in the light would soon all be covered in dirt and blood. The buttons would be scratched and tarnished, as the men who wore them. We would share the same sorrows, grief, and would all wear the same scarred, hard expressions of men who had seen the brutal and unforgiving nature of war.

With these men whom I drank with, laughed with, and fought with I would also grieve with, (however brief). We all shared the weight off loss, taking it off one man and spreading it equally across our shoulders. Now, walking down the alley aware of how alone I was my shoulders were sagging beneath the great weight I held alone. I was alone, just as I had been then; Even then, when we were forced to be one unit. Our feet all marching in time, each man a gear that made up a well oiled machine, I was still an outsider. I was an American in the Italian army. I could speak fluent Italian. Hell, I knew more words than some of my fellow soldiers (curse words and slang aside), but I still noticed the looks some gave me, the evidence of their distrust blatantly hardening their countenance.

As the darker thoughts once again began to fill my mind the pistol felt heavier in my belt, reminding me of its menacing and tempting presence forcing me to thing brighter thoughts. The last thing I wanted was to be drawn back into that dark abyss that I feared I wouldn't escape from. The only way I knew to prevent that from happening was to drink until the world spun.

"Ah, the lost Tenente, I hoped to see you back here again" the barkeep exclaimed exuberantly as I approached. My smile was genuine. The familiar face comforted me and made me feel slightly more relaxed. However, the sight of the alcohol relaxed me further. "What would you like to drink?"

"Grappa" I replied. The bartender turned to get exactly what I asked. I sat back in my chair letting out my breath in a loud exhale as my fingers traced through the wet circles that the bottoms of other glasses had left on the polished wood and I took in my surroundings for the first time.

The bars interior was warm and cozy, the dim lighting and wooden floors only enhanced that inviting feeling. There were very few people in the small room, some laughing obnoxiously while others sat quietly at their tables. At the back of the bar a couple sat together, their hands beneath the table and the man's lips were next to her ear, his face covered by her long blonde hair. I scowled and turned back to the bartender. He had placed the drink in front of me and was wiping down the bar. "I assume you're in need of a room" He said politely starting conversation.

"Yes I do" I replied sipping my drink and digging in my pocket for money.

"No, no" He said, stopping my movements. "It's free". My expression must have shown my surprise.

"You look like you need to get away, and if I remember correctly I promised you a place to stay." He said with a small smile and handed me a small set of keys.

"Your room is the second one on the left, just up those stairs" He said pointing to a set of stairs in the back of the bar, next to the couple's tiny table. I expressed my gratitude and swallowed the contents of the glass with one swallow, not wanting to wait to feel its effects; all the while my eyes never left the tiny table in the back of the bar. It was after my second glass that the man finally felt my gaze on him or decided to look up, I would never know for sure which. When he did his dark brown eyes locked with mine. I was looking into the eyes of a man I had thought to be dead.

_Rinaldi _

I felt a spark of something in my chest, though it left before I could pinpoint the emotion. I thought I was hallucinating, or maybe I had been drugged. My eyes flickered to my drink dubiously but as a disbelieving smile broke out across his face I stood quickly and before I knew it I was sitting in the chair across from him. The woman he was with wasn't his girlfriend. She pushed her shoulders back, effectively pushing her breasts farther out and cast me a seductive smile. Rinaldi whispered in her ear and I was able to pick up what sounded like French; _A French whore_ I thought and chuckled to myself. Knowing Rinaldi the things he whispered in her ear were most likely the raunchiest things the woman had heard, promises of what he would do to her before the sun rose… Rinaldi always came through with his promises. I expected her to stand and straddle his waist, but to my surprise Rinaldi stuck his hand in her shirt and pulled out a few lire and stuffed them in his pocket. She rose quickly with an irritated huff and strode out of the bar. As she left Rinaldi leaned forward in his chair, his face close to mine. I could feel his breath on my cheek and tried not to focus on how little energy it would take to close that gap.

"I thought you were dead" He said his voice filled with awe.

"I thought the same of you" I replied, equally shocked at his presence.

"Me?" He sat back in his chair and I missed his presence, his warm breath that smelt of the liquor he had previously consumed, how it would taste- . I physically shook the thoughts from my head. This wasn't right we were just good friends, soldiers, and once roommates. The memory that surfaced however, told otherwise:

…_Rinaldi's hands moved expertly over my knee. Pushing down gently, probing at muscles and tendons, and checking my range of motion. His hair shone in the sunlight that was streaming through the window of the room we shared in the officer's barracks. His words fell on deaf ears as he looked up and me, pushing the hair out of his face that had fallen in front of his eyes that shimmered as he laughed at some joke he made. I had laughed too because it had seemed appropriate, and tried not too be __**too**__ aware of how little clothing I had covering my lower half… _

His long hair shone now just as it had then, except the light wasn't the brilliant sunlight streaming through the window of the barracks but rather the dim hazy lighting of the tiny smoke filled tavern which I now called home. From across the table I watched Rinaldi's eyes roam almost hungrily across my body before they came back up to my face. I knew Rinaldi had, had some experience with men. He was a man known to experiment, in bed…and out. In sharing a room I had heard all the stories, and declined the subtle hints which I had dismissed as playful banter and declined because of Ca-. I swallowed hard and focused back on Rinaldi. I hadn't realized he'd been speaking. I now watched his lips move and I imagined them on mine, not just his lips but his tongue, and teeth, scraping against my skin. I felt a shiver run through me and was surprised at such an immediate reaction to a… man.

"Baby, are you listening?" He asked. His expression then shifted, his gaze changing to one that made my blood flow south.

"Perhaps you do not want to talk" He continued, a coy smile spread across his lips.

It was at that moment that I thought of another way to escape the inner turmoil I was feeling that wouldn't leave the contents of my head spattered on an alley wall or leave me hung over in the morning. I could regain control, by controlling Rinaldi. The thought was selfish, but I knew he wanted me too. The tiny hints had always been there, the way his eyes would linger on me longer than necessary, or on the tiny pecks he had placed on my lips every chance he got. Even with the thought forming in my head I hesitated, not physically because I sure as hell physically wanted him. The growing bulge in the front of my trousers was plain evidence of that. I hesitated because I knew that the terrible game I played with Catherine would just repeat it's self. I had used Catherine to escape the war and was now using Rinaldi to escape Catherine, it was a vicious circle that was never ending, but honestly… _how much worse can it get? _I thought before focusing back on the present.

"I had heard you died of Syphilis"

Rinaldi laughed whole heartedly before responding. "The other officers _wish _I was dead, all the girls at the brothels always beg for me!"

"Because you simply pay well" I shot back, insulting his masculinity.

"Ah, there's the Henry I know" He said with a smirk, but his tone quickly became serious. "What has reduced you to such a pitiful state?" He continued; sipping the drink he'd been neglecting.

I glanced down at my clothes. They were old and wrinkled, from sleeping in the hospital waiting room. Dark dirt formed streaks across the back of my trousers from sitting in the alley. I knew that Rinaldi wasn't talking about my outward appearance, but the less visible emotional state that I was currently in.

"Catherine" I answered lifelessly. My voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

He understood. He didn't push the topic further but to my surprise the words tumbled out. I told Rinaldi everything that had happened between me and Catherine. I told him about the "game" we played, about the child, and especially about the Sergeant.

Rinaldi laughed. "That _puttana _traded a _sergente_ for a _tenente" _He tousledmy hair with his hand beforehanding me his half full glass of grappa. "You need this more than I do, baby" His voice was full of sincere sympathy that sounded foreign rolling off his tongue.

As I finished the contents of the glass I felt a hand on my knee. Strong fingers rubbed at the sore patella, I closed my eyes I hadn't realized how much it had been paining me until now.

"How is your knee feeling?" He asked. Though his had was already past my knee at that point moving slowly up my thigh.

My breath hitched in my throat and I coughed to clear it as his hand continued it's slow but determined pace up my leg, closer to where I desperately wanted his hand.

"Sore" I croaked.

"Hm, I still say I could have done a better job than that fool of a surgeon." He said. His hand was dangerously close as I reached into my pocket, pulling out the set of keys I had been given earlier and dangled them in front of his face with a look that expressed exactly what was wanted of him. With a knowing smirk he removed his hand and stood from his chair, making his way slowly up the stairs with me not far behind. I silently thanked whatever God would listen that our table had been close to the stairs because the way Rinaldi's hips moved as he walked was enough to make my mouth water.

After fumbling impatiently with the keys the door swung open, revealing a musty room with a single window. From the look on Rinaldi's face I could tell that he expected to be dominating me, I had other plans. Our lips met in a brutal kiss. A kiss that quickly became more teeth than lips, more of a fight for dominance than a show of affection. It was filled with sharp gasps and moans as teeth made purchase on newly exposed skin as clothes were all but torn off our bodies.

With a growl that bordered on animalistic I grabbed Rinaldi firmly by the back of the neck and shoved him into the empty wall beside us. His breath left him in a pained grunt as I used my body to keep him pinned to the wall. He struggled to change the position, and get out of such a helpless state. His clothes had mostly been discarded of, leaving him only in unbuttoned trousers that barely hung on his hips.

I placed kisses and nips along his neck. I sucked when I felt the tiny pulse point in his neck thrumming steadily against my tongue, attempting to coax a response. I could see in the way that he tried unsuccessfully to bite back his moans that Rinaldi wasn't a man that was used to being dominated. I was determined to watch him unravel in my hands. Rinaldi glanced at me over his shoulder, a defiant smile tugging on his lips as he caught on to what I was doing. I bit down, hard on his shoulder and didn't stop until I tasted the dark, metallic, and seductive taste of blood.

I didn't waste any time. My hands felt their way down the surgeon's abdomen, feeling the surprisingly toned muscles ripple and tighten beneath my touch. My hands drifted lower, gripping his arousal through his pants. Rinaldi bucked his hips into my hand, desperate for more contact and I smiled as his moans became whimpers that only grew louder as I removed my hand.

"Tell me what you want, Rinaldi" I spoke into his ear, my tone commanding.

"No, I'm not going to beg" he replied, though his voice implied otherwise.

In response I tore at his pants and undergarments, letting them pool at the floor around his feet and grabbed his now fully hardened member. A loud moan tore from his throat, one that he had evidentially tried to contain. I moved my hand slowly and teasingly. The sounds that were coming from his throat made me question if I could hold back from taking him immediately. After a few strokes his moans grew louder and only after I was sure he had accepted his submissive role I grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his face back towards mine.

"I want you to get on your hands and knees, begging for me inside you" I snarled.

He obeyed. He got into the desired position, legs spread. I smiled at the sight and moved closer to him. I ran my hands down his thighs; avoiding the areas he wanted me desperately near. I stuck my fingers in my mouth and coated them with saliva. Rinaldi watched from over his shoulder, eyes glazed over with lust. As I eased the first digit in his back arched as a response to the intrusion. I moved at a teasing pace before inserting the second finger and it wasn't long before he wanted more.

"Henry, baby, please" his voice pleaded with me.

"Louder" I said and moved my fingers even slower inside of him causing his pleas to grow louder and even more incoherent, but that wasn't enough I wanted him screaming my name. The fingers that weren't busy inside oh him grazed the underside of his shaft; he thrust his hips in response begging for more contact. He bit his lip until I was sure it would bleed. In irritation I removed my fingers and grabbed a fistful of silky black hair. He groaned at the loss and I used this new growing need to my advantage.

"Beg for it" I said nipping his earlobe. My hand halted on his member, going from teasing to torturous. I removed my undergarments and lubricated my cock with saliva before pushing teasingly against his entrance. "_Cazzo" _The word slipped from his lips and I smiled, knowing he was breaking. I watched him visibly swallow his pride before he screamed the words that I had yearned to hear.

"Just fuck me, you sadistic fuck, before I-"He was cut off as I pushed roughly inside of him.

I groaned, loudly. He was so tight and Rinaldi hissed in pain before he slowly began to move with me, our hips meeting at a steady pace. As we drew closer to completion the steady pace became erratic. "I want to hear my name" I grunted as his muscles began to tighten around me, I changed the angle effectively hitting his prostate with every thrust.

He screamed my name as he came, along with a string of curses, and a clenching of muscles that forced my own release inside of him. He collapsed and I rolled off of him, our breathing ragged, his sweat slicked torso rising and falling.

"Thank you Rinaldi" I spoke once my breathing slowed to a normal rate.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed me fully on the mouth. I didn't expect him to know what I meant, I expected him to think of it as a casual fuck just one night that would let off steam and pent up sexual frustration. He pulled away but his lips still brushed mine as he spoke, he spoke in smooth flowing Italian.

"You're welcome; just don't expect me to let you fuck me like a whore every time you feel the need to regain control of your life"

He understood. He always had.


End file.
